Treachery

Reading Time: 64 Minutes

Title: Treachery
Series: The Eternal Knight
Series Order: 2
Author: Keira Marcos
Fandom: Harry Potter
Relationship: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger
Genre:  Fantasy, Romance, Revenant AU
Warnings:  Character Bashing, Explicit Language, Discussion-Murder, Discussion-Potions Abuse, Discussion-Consent Issues, Discussion-Sexual Assault, Grammarly Beta, No Human Beta
Word Count: 16,011
Author Note: This is an alternate universe. It’s best not to assume all canon events happened in this universe the same way. If an event is pertinent to my story (as the original event or different), I will include it. Your non-consensual so-called “con-crit” will be considered an act of war.

Summary:  Harry and Hermione take advantage of the fact that adults are finally listening to them.

* * * * *

The ring on his finger felt like it belonged there. He wondered if that was Gawain’s influence as so many Anchors before Harry had worn it. It was very magical in its own right and seemed to marry with the magic that thrummed through his body the moment he put it on. He glanced toward Hermione, who was tucked in the corner of Tyr Warhide’s office. The dverger had come and gone from the room all morning as Harry had made decisions with Gawain’s overt input. Hermione had provided her own advice before the meeting had started.

Tyr returned to his desk, sat down, and stared pointedly at Harry. “My husband is quite put out to be missing out on all the fun. I suspect I will pay for getting you as a client for decades.”

“Would it be better or worse to transfer to him after he comes back to work?” Harry questioned.

“Worse, because then I would be put out, and he doesn’t have the law background to handle your accounts at any rate,” Tyr explained. “The ICW has contacted the World Court of Magic, and a trial proceeding for your godfather is being put together. They’re also sending a team of war mages to deal with the issue of Riddle. From what I can tell, Armand Deering has already been in talks with them, and the new minister has launched an investigation into the whole issue. They are requesting the right to see and interview you.”

“I…” Harry took a deep breath. “I gave Madam Bones a copy of the memory to avoid an interview.”

“I see,” Tyr said and focused entirely on Harry. “Over the years, we’ve watched you make a series of very savvy decisions that often, at first glance, seemed reckless or ill-considered. The consequences of those choices nearly always worked out to your advantage in ways that left me stunned. I suspect practically no one in your life realizes exactly who you are, Lord Gryffindor, and that’s to your benefit.

“That being said, you can’t continue to hide who and what you are. Anchoring a Revenant has drastically changed your circumstances and expanded your personal power at an age when most would be with little legal recourse. A great many powerful people are going to start moving around in your life, and the best path forward will be for you to fortify your position legally and socially.

“My father-in-law chose me as your account manager because I also have several masteries in law both locally and internationally. It gives me a broad skillset to protect you and your assets. You are an emancipated minor, which comes with a set of legal and financial circumstances that most young men your age would be ill-prepared to deal with.”

“Is this about the money?” Harry asked.

“Your personal wealth was substantial, but you’re now the head of the Gryffindor estate, and as such, you are one of the wealthiest wizards on the planet. You will be sought after in a variety of ways that will cause you stress and…frankly, pain. At your age, it would be the goal of many to seduce you into a relationship that would lead you to make mistakes resulting in a required marriage.”

Harry flushed. “And my discretion ward?”

“Is an obstacle,” Tyr agreed. “But we need to be a little more proactive when it comes to protecting your magical line.”

“He means a contraceptive, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “A hidden rune charm is the best choice. It would be linked to your core, and that would make it very difficult to destroy without your consent. It’s something I intended to suggest to you…next year. You didn’t seem all that interested in sex last year…and….” She shrugged when he huffed.

“Hermione.” He exhaled sharply. “Three different witches and one wizard offered me sex last year. I didn’t do it, but I could’ve very easily had a lot of sex last year. It felt weird and mostly about my fame, which put me off mostly.”

“People are awful,” Hermione said and snapped her book shut sharply. “Clearly, we need to set that up now, Master Warhide. His discretion ward isn’t as robust as mine, and he could be led…astray.”

“I find that pretty offensive, Hermione,” Harry protested. “We’re sort of working on that promotion thing, and I wouldn’t mess that up when I can get off just fine on my own with much less complication.”

She blushed. “Harry Potter.”

“You brought that on yourself, lass,” Tyr said and quirked an eyebrow when she huffed dramatically at him. He focused on Harry. “That being said, she’s right that you could be led astray. Magically, you are protected from overt force—spells and love potions, specifically. But there are other subtle things that could be done. Magic on your body can’t exert any control on the bodies of others, so if a witch or wizard got their hands on your biological materials, they could create a variety of magical circumstances to cloud your judgment.”

“Like attraction perfumes,” Hermione interjected. “Or jealousy draughts that wouldn’t activate your ward but would influence you in such a way that you might assume you want someone because you’re jealous of the time they spend with others. It would be easy to create the illusion of attraction or even romantic love with the right combination of magical influences. None of which is illegal, and the ramifications could be very damaging.” She flicked a hand. “As long as I allowed the offender to live, that is.”

Harry cleared his throat when Tyr grinned broadly. “Don’t encourage her. She’s already one wrong word away from murder on the best of days. The magical world is one big fat disappointment, apparently.”

“Many children raised in the Muggle world have expectations of magic and magical society that cause bitter disappointments,” Tyr said. “And often they retreat to the comforts of the Muggle world and barely acknowledge magic, which is a loss for the magical fabric of our world. Though pure-bloods would have you think differently. They believe they can exist wholesale without Muggle-born and half-bloods.”

“Magic would…die,” Harry said. “I feel like that’s the outcome of pure-blood beliefs—the wholesale death of magic.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong, and many agree with you,” Tyr said. “We need to make some decisions.”

“Okay,” Harry said and turned slightly to look at Hermione. “Mi.”

She stood and, with a deep breath, slipped into the chair beside him. He offered her his hand, and Hermione took it with a small smile.

“What’s first?” Harry questioned.

Warhide took the change in and nodded slowly. “I see.”

“Do you?” Harry questioned.

The dverger hummed under his breath. “The expense you went to regarding her warding makes much more sense than it did before.”

“Was it outside the realm of friendship?” Harry asked.

“You put a war ward on her, lad,” Tyr said plainly. “And you spent as much money as some would spend on a house to do it. Yes, it’s outside the realm of friendship, and if it were known, many would presume her to be the future Countess of Gryffindor.”

“We’ve never told anyone about the ward or its placement,” Hermione said. “It’s no one’s business.” Her fingers tightened briefly in his.

“The only way it would be revealed would be if it were activated,” Tyr said. “And the ramifications of that activation would not be your fault in any single way. The law is clear on that front.”

“Even if it kills a pure-blood wizard?” Harry questioned.

“You were told the legal ramifications at the time of the warding, correct?” Tyr asked and glanced between them. “You declared her your legal property, Lord Gryffindor. If that wasn’t made entirely clear to you both….”

“No, we understood,” Hermione said quickly. “As long as I wear the ward, I am legally his property under magical law. I consider the protection of the ward a fair trade-off for a legal status that I know Harry would never use against me.”

He wouldn’t, and he also wouldn’t feel guilty at all if the ward killed some dumb bastard who put his hands on Hermione Granger without her explicit permission. Gawain stirred inside of him, full of approval and praise regarding the ward. It had felt like the best decision they could make when they’d done it, but he appreciated the validation.

Gawain did have some very rigid ideas about how women should be treated and even sheltered within the magic and power of a man. It probably should’ve been off-putting, but the Revenant wasn’t pushy about it. His old-world chivalry appealed to Harry and didn’t seem to be irritating Hermione overmuch. Harry was certain that she’d definitely let him know if they over-stepped.

Tyr’s gaze drifted between them, assessing and curious, then the dverger nodded. “William and Percival Weasley filed charges against their mother this morning for mental and physical abuse via the use of behavioral modification potions. Arthur Weasley has been placed in St. Mungo’s spell damage ward for reasons unknown. William has also filed for emergency physical custody of all of his minor siblings, and child abuse charges are pending.”

Hermione relaxed beside him, and Harry already regretted the question he had to ask.

“Can the damage done to them be fixed?” Harry questioned.

“Behavioral modification potions are dangerous and, at a young age, can cause a profound amount of harm. All of the Weasley children are being evaluated for treatment, as far as I’ve been told. William sought treatment here as he’s our employee and is required to do so. His siblings are at St. Mungo’s. I can’t discuss the specifics, of course, as they’re all entitled to privacy.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m just worried about Ron, specifically. He was…emotionally destroyed by the discovery that his mother had subverted his personal choices. Strong emotions can be dangerous, too, right?”

“In puberty, magicals can be quite dangerous when they’re emotionally overwrought,” Tyr said. “Both to themselves and others. William Weasley is a competent wizard, and I trust that he will do the very best he can for his siblings.”

Harry nodded and figured he wouldn’t get much more information regarding the situation until he could talk to a Weasley personally. “Dumbledore?”

Tyr grimaced. “He’s come and gone from the bank several times—demanding to take custody of you and your godfather. Sirius Black has already been transferred to the custody of the World Court of Magic, and the British Ministry of Magic is collectively furious. Though he’s still in this bank. He’s just under their guard. I believe quite a few people knew that your godfather was innocent, and they are working to protect themselves from the fallout of what is about to happen.”

“Can they?” Hermione asked.

“No, but many magicals are simply stupid,” Tyr said plainly, and Harry laughed. “It is especially evident amongst pure-bloods who disdain education, societal advancement, and any sort of legitimate progress that threatens their world view.”

“You’re so jaded,” Hermione said with a delighted grin.

“It’s what happens when you spend too much time with dumb wizards,” Tyr said.

“I’m concerned about it,” Hermione admitted. “All that time at Hogwarts has tried my patience to the practical limit. By the end of third year, I had to start keeping a list…for future revenge purposes.”

Tyr grinned at her, and Harry wondered if he should separate them. He couldn’t see how Tyr Warhide wasn’t going to be a bad influence on Hermione Granger.

“How did you get your use name?” Harry asked curiously.

Tyr hummed under his breath and played with the quill he’d picked up. “When I was very young, I was working with my mother in the lower reaches of the Paris branch of the bank. She was mapping the area for new vaults, and it was discovered that the branch’s beast keeper had made a severe mistake with a nesting dragon.

“It is our custom to use charms to train dragons to work in the bank—we learned over a thousand years ago that using physical discipline to train an animal doesn’t create bonds of loyalty or allow for cooperation. Regardless, there was a dragon in the bottom reaches of the bank that no one was aware of. It was as feral and vicious as a dragon hatched in the wild.

“My mother didn’t realize it hadn’t been trained until it was on her. I was forced to kill the creature with her athame to gain control of the situation.”

Harry stared for a moment. “With just a dagger?”

Tyr drew a dagger from a dimensional store on his wrist and laid the sixteen-inch blade on the desk between them. “This one, in fact.” He paused. “Many won’t appreciate this as much as you will, Lord Gryffindor. It was a Hungarian Horntail.”

Harry huffed. “Warhide seems like they buried the lead a bit if I’m honest.”

Tyr grinned. “Use names amongst my kind are normally earned over the course of one’s first fifty years and bestowed on the day of our fiftieth birthday. I was barely twenty-five. Neither of my parents wanted to attach a name like Dragonslayer to me at that age, so they worked hard to circumvent that.”

“It would’ve shaped others’ expectations of you,” Hermione said. “You clearly didn’t follow your mother’s career path.”

“Nor my father’s, who is a blacksmith,” Tyr said easily. “Most dverger in my magical classification do not seek a career in any sort of scholarly setting.”

“Warrior class,” Hermione said. “I thought so based on your size and level of fitness.” She flushed when he raised an eyebrow. “It’s kind of hard not to notice.”

Harry had to agree. “Most of the dverger that work the front of the bank aren’t as physically robust as you are.”

“Threatening, you mean,” Tyr said in amusement. “We make a point of such a presentation across the world in every single branch of Gringotts. Some magical humans have no idea there is more than one magical class of dverger, and honestly, that’s for the best. Their ignorance serves us as much as it stymies them.”

Gawain stirred inside of him, and Hermione’s fingers clenched around his as blue light drifted over his skin.

“Sir Gawain is very active,” Tyr said. “Is he worried about something specific?”

“He finds my circumstances grossly offensive,” Harry said. “And has spent a lot of time since anchoring reviewing my memories. He wants me to sue…practically everyone.”

Tyr grinned. “As it would happen, I wouldn’t mind taking on such a task as a hobby.” He laughed when Hermione huffed. “Where ever shall we start?”

“Albus Dumbledore ignored my parent’s will and put me in a household with a pair of abusive, intolerant Muggles who made me live in a boot cupboard.”

The quill fell from the dverger’s hand. He sat back, eyes darkening with fury. “Abusive?”

“I can say with some confidence that Lucius Malfoy treated his house elf better than my aunt and uncle treated me,” Harry said evenly. “And sparse meals with the least of it. Moreover, he’s worried about my physical health and thinks that I might have suffered some damage from periodic bouts of starvation as a small child. Sometimes, my aunt barely bothered to feed me a single meal a day before school started, and once I was in school—the only food I got was what I was served at school.”

Warhide’s gaze narrowed. “There is an entire department at the British Ministry of Magic dedicated to protecting magical children from such treatment, Lord Gryffindor. Muggle-born and Muggle-raised children are known to be their priority.” He stood. “I need to retrieve your father’s will, and we’ll go from there. I’ll send in a tray—you both look like you could use some tea.” He paused and cleared his throat. “And I need a fucking drink.”

Harry winced when the dverger stalked out of the office and turned to Hermione. “This is weird, and it’ll probably upset you—but it’s always nice when an adult actually gets genuinely upset about how I’ve been treated by my aunt and uncle.”

“I understand,” Hermione said quietly. “I hope he doesn’t kill them. I have an extensive revenge plot planned for your aunt that will take a decade to accomplish thoroughly, and I have my heart set on it.”

Harry grinned at her. “You know…meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m really glad my aunt brought me to King’s Cross so early that day, and you were there to set me to rights first thing. I can’t imagine how things would’ve gone if I hadn’t met you first.”

“Well, you’d have probably missed the train,” Hermione said tartly.

Tyr returned even as a house elf appeared with a tea tray. He sat down at his desk. “Thank you, Miki. Please tell my husband that I won’t be home for lunch.”

Miki scowled. “I not like delivering bad news. Master Fireborn very moody!”

Tyr grinned, and the house elf popped away with a huff. He poured himself some tea and motioned to the food. “Please, help yourselves. I have a copy of the will of James Potter on the way. I need a list of all the adults that knew the full measure of your circumstances in your aunt and uncle’s home.”

Hermione pulled her journal out and opened it without hesitation. “Albus Dumbledore, Arabella Figg, Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher, Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, and Sturgis Podmore. Minerva McGonagall is aware that Harry was raised by his Muggle aunt, but…every single time we’ve tried to discuss Harry’s circumstances with her, we’re magically deflected. We can’t even discuss the deflection with her. It’s sophisticated magic, and we made the choice last year to stop trying. We were afraid that she might get hurt by the magic. We can’t be certain if it’s on the school or on us. We’re worried that it might be on her. We have no proof of that.”

Tyr nodded. “We’ll need to figure that out. Such a thing is a grave crime. Unfortunately, it is unlikely that the World Court of Magic or even the local ministry would take an accusation seriously if it came from the horde. The amount of bias we face is often difficult to overcome even on a serious matter like this.”

“Then we need to get in the same room with someone powerful and invested,” Hermione said. “It’s something to work on.”

Tyr nodded. “Dedalus Diggle. He’s a licensed solicitor and is in the employ of the British Ministry of Magic.”

“He’s also a member of the Order of the Phoenix and helped Dumbledore hold Harry hostage on Privet Drive this summer,” Hermione said flatly.

“He’s about to get his life ruined,” Tyr muttered. “And give me the rest of your list.”

“The rest of which list?” Hermione questioned.

Tyr eyed her and inclined his head. “Let’s start with your hit list. You’re far too young to be hiring an assassin.”

“I told you,” Harry muttered, and Hermione huffed but paged through her journal and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, which she passed to Tyr Warhide. “Give him the other one.”

Hermione frowned deeply but pulled out a second piece of parchment. “This is a list of people who need their lives ruined, and I’m going to do it.” She paused. “Even if it takes decades.”

Tyr reviewed the list, grinned, and passed it back to her. “May your endeavors warm your heart, lass.”

Hermione tucked the list away with a pleased smile. She surely considered the exchange as a blanket permission to be a genuine scourge on magical society. Harry wasn’t opposed, so he just sat back in his chair while Gawain laughed gently in his mind.

* * * *

Amelia Bones entered the room with a man he’d seen before and Dumbledore, who had managed to get himself included despite Harry’s protests. Harry knew that Cornelius Fudge had been removed from office, and there was going to be a special election to replace him. Apparently, all of his deputies were suspended due to Fudge’s activities and the pending investigation. Which meant that Lord Jonah McGregor was the temporary Minister for Magic. Gawain had told him that McGregor would not be interested in keeping the position beyond the emergency situation but didn’t reveal why.

Harry was relieved that Fudge was no longer in play, but he was the devil they knew, so he didn’t know how it would change things. Hermione didn’t appear to be all that fussed about that aspect. She was sitting with Ragnok in the room behind a ward that obscured them entirely. He had Tyr Warhide at his side at the table and two hit wizards from the ICW standing at his back. It was kind of awesome and weird at the same time. Gawain seemed pleased.

Dumbledore tried to cross the room, and a shining ward sprung up, dissecting the room. The old wizard reared back in shock and glared at him. Harry found that rude since he had nothing to do with the security in the room. He frowned at Dumbledore and huffed a little, which made Tyr laugh. He turned to the dverger.

“He blames me for stuff all the time. You should’ve seen the fit he threw when my name came out of the Goblet of Fire—like a fourteen-year-old with a substandard defense education could’ve possibly circumvented the protections on an enchanted object that is hundreds of years old.” Harry paused. “I probably could now, but that’s just because Gawain knows a lot, and he keeps telling me things he probably shouldn’t.”

“You’ll find, Lord Gryffindor, that certain individuals in positions of power will seek to blame others for any situation they can’t control,” Tyr said and focused on Amelia Bones. “Madam Bones, my client is not going to submit to Albus Dumbledore’s custody. This wizard has no legal or familial claim on the Earl of Gryffindor, as you already know. It was reported to me that Dumbledore has already ordered the earl to separate from Sir Gawain, which you also know is considered an international crime. I’ve already forwarded a complaint to the World Court on that matter, and you can expect to get a copy of that shortly.”

Madam Bones nodded. “I’m not here to advocate for Albus Dumbledore. I happen to agree that he has no business attempting to take custody of a minor he’s not related to and has no legal obligations to. It’s disconcerting, and if Harry Potter were a member of my family, I’d be filing more than one complaint.”

“I have a list,” Tyr assured, and Harry swallowed a laugh. “As is, I’ve several issues with the Ministry of Magic that must be addressed. James Potter’s will was never executed, and Lord Gryffindor was placed in an abusive Muggle home where he was not monitored by the ministry in any shape or form. But we should handle introductions first. Lord Gryffindor, have you met Lord Jonah McGregor?”

“I haven’t,” Harry said and focused on the older man. “I’m sorry.”

McGregor blinked in clear surprise. “What?”

“I think you could’ve been press-ganged into taking the worst job in the whole ministry,” Harry said. “I hope you escape as soon as possible.”

McGregor laughed. “There will be an election within the next three months unless things escalate with Riddle.”

Harry nodded and frowned briefly at Dumbledore before returning his attention to Amelia Bones. “I’m not going to ask Sir Gawain to separate from me, no matter who thinks it’s a good idea. The headmaster has no role in this conversation, and I’m offended you brought him here.”

“He’s been reinstated as the High Warlock of the Wizengamot.”

Harry made a face. “You should check the people who made that decision for any sort of manipulative magic.” He shrugged when Dumbledore huffed dramatically. “He’s only offended because I’m right.” She raised an eyebrow and shifted a bracelet on her wrist. “He also likes to throw loyalty charms like crazy. Sir Gawain thinks he’s a real bastard and that he’s so invested in his vision of the greater good that he’s precariously close to becoming a dark lord in his own right. Right now, oddly, he’s probably light magically despite the fact that he dabbles in corruption and bribery. You can expect that to change on a sickle when his current plans don’t net him the expected outcome.”

“I’ve done nothing to encourage such a damning accusation, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore pressed.

“Yeah, you did nothing,” Harry said evenly. “You did absolutely nothing but leave me on the doorstep of my abusive muggle relative’s home. You did nothing to help me escape that situation. You did nothing about Tom Riddle possessing a teacher my first year. You did nothing to help my innocent godfather while he was in prison for twelve years, being tortured by dementors when you knew he wasn’t my parent’s secret keeper. You never even bothered to go ask him what happened between him and Peter Pettigrew.

“You did nothing to ensure he got a proper trial. You did nothing to protect me during that stupid tournament that I was illegally entered into by another fucking Death Eater masquerading as a teacher! You and your illegal vigilante group did nothing when dementors tried to kill my cousin and me.

“There hasn’t been a single moment in my entire life when you’ve done a single damn thing to honor the role of guardian, which would magically damage you if you were ever actually my guardian. As it turns out, my parents’ will specifically list you as a person they never wanted to have custody of their son.

“You bribed someone in the ministry to seal the will illegally. They’re going to prison, by the way, unless they’re dead. I’m going to insist they face charges. I’m going to see you in prison, too. I’ve already started giving memories of the abuses I suffered with the Dursleys to the World Court of Magic. Chief Justice Bertrand will be here first thing in the morning to help me.

“It’s nice, honestly, to finally have adults in my life who want to help and protect me since you did nothing.” He turned his attention to McGregor and found the man pale. Magic was drifting on his skin. “We think all of the teachers have been magically manipulated to ignore issues with security and student safety. I’m not sure if he did it because of me or if he’s always done it. It could be on the castle itself, or maybe it’s on me. We’re just really uncertain, but you should look into that.”

McGregor stood with a furious hiss, and his aura shifted black. Tyr stood and pulled Harry from this chair roughly as he drew a shining silver-looking stave.

“All of them?” McGregor demanded. He turned on Dumbledore, and the older wizard sprung from his chair with more vigor than Harry considered him capable of and drew his wand.

Harry reacted without much thought as Gawain urged him to take the old bastard’s wand. His own wand snapped into his hand, and he shouted. “Expelliarmus!”

Dumbledore’s wand flicked out of his hand, sailed across the room, and landed in Harry’s hand. He holstered the wand at Gawain’s urging, even as Dumbledore turned to him in fury.

“Give me back my wand!”

No, Gawain said silently. That wand belongs to your family. He has to right to carry it.

“Gawain says the wand is actually mine through inheritance and it’s stolen property. I’m going to have to get my vault audited now, you miserable bastard.”

McGregor shoved Dumbledore against the wall. “Did you manipulative Minerva?”

“I….”

“Have you fucking charmed or potioned her?” McGregor hissed. “I’ll skin you alive!”

A firm hand settled on Harry’s shoulder, and he found himself pulled straight through the security ward by a dverger he’d never seen before.

“Who….”

“Bel Silvertongue, I’m the chieftain’s personal bodyguard,” the dverger said. “You are too vulnerable magically to be anywhere near that conversation.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said and holstered his wand with a flush. “I apologize for drawing my wand, but Gawain…he wanted me to claim the wand.”

“It’s fine,” Ragnok said before the bodyguard could say anything. “Sir Gawain would’ve never anchored with a wizard the horde can not trust.”

Harry focused on the front of the room, and it was empty. “What happened?”

“Security magic removed them from the bank property, and Tyr went to inform the director of the circumstances,” Ragnok said. “To avoid any issues with treaties, a full report will be generated for the ICW. A wizard drawing his wand in my presence is considered a treaty violation, though you were the only one that knew I was in the room. It’ll be fine—no charges will be levied.”

“We just…thought we should have Master Warhide’s back,” Harry confessed and flushed when Bel Silvertongue snorted. “Not that he needs it.”

“No, but the sentiment is appreciated,” Ragnok said.

“Do you know why Lord McGregor got so upset?”

“Minerva McGonagall is an Anchor,” Ragnok said gravely. “Such a thing is precious, Lord Gryffindor, and her Revenant is just as special as your own.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “This incident will cause an immense scandal, and the details of the original anchoring will once more be news.”

Hermione took Harry’s hand. “We won’t discuss it with anyone—whether it makes the papers or not.”

“Minerva McGonagall is anchoring Esmeralda Ravenclaw.”

A swift and awful hurt clenched around Harry’s heart, and he pressed a shaking hand to his chest. Gawain retreated with a whispered apology that skittered across his bones in a way that was so jarring that he went weak at the knees. Hermione’s hand clenched on his elbow, and he found himself put in a chair.

“She used to linger at Hogwarts,” Hermione said quietly. “But she disappeared decades ago. It was assumed she crossed over.”

“It is the narrative that the ministry, at the time, put out,” Ragnok said quietly. “But it was known, at the time, that she was not a ghost. It’s not a surprise such a thing wouldn’t be discussed in front of the children at the school. She saved Minerva from an unspeakable act of violence on the school grounds and anchored with her to save her life.”

“The ministry covered up this crime, then,” Hermione said with a frown. “Why?”

“Because the offender was the minister’s son,” Tyr Warhide said as he entered the ward. “But don’t worry, lass, the bastard didn’t survive long.” He focused on Ragnok. “Lord McGregor dragged Dumbledore out of the bank and used a portkey. I didn’t attempt to follow. Madam Bones returned to the ministry. There were many witnesses to the event.” He turned to Harry. “It’s illegal to take and keep another wizard’s wand. So, I hope the providence is clear.”

“Gawain says he carried it when he was anchored with Ignotus Peverell,” Harry said. “And there will be documentation in the Gryffindor vault to back up the claim should Dumbledore protest. But he didn’t deny the fact that it was my ancestral property when I said it, so that’s telling.”

“It’s very telling, but I want the documentation,” Tyr said shortly. “Because in knowingly keeping such a thing, he’s guilty of felony-level pilfering, and I’m not above piling charges on top of the life sentence he’s already earned himself in an ICW prison.”

“A life sentence, truly?” Hermione questioned.

“If he’s been manipulating an Anchor for decades, then he’ll be charged with dozens of counts in relation to it—every single time he had to renew whatever magic he has on her will be considered a separate offense. He’ll die in prison,” Tyr assured.

Hermione puffed up a little and clapped her hands. “This is the best day ever.” She frowned then. “I wish I’d known this ages ago! I need legal texts. Lots of them. The library at Hogwarts hasn’t been sufficient for my needs, and I didn’t even know it.” She turned to Master Warhide. “Can you take a human apprentice? Because I need to learn everything you know.”

“I don’t take apprentices at all,” the dverger said dryly. “There are schools and programs to educate witches and wizards, at any rate.”

“I clearly need better education opportunities,” Hermione said and crossed her arms. “I’ve been….” She turned to Harry. “I think Hogwarts has been holding me back, Harry, and I can’t be certain any other school would be better.”

Harry turned to Tyr Warhide. “Can you make an exception?”

Ragnok started laughing.

* * * *

Since Hermione was hammering out her mentor contract with Tyr Warhide, Harry had retreated to their suite to deal with the blow he’d taken with Gawain. He had a feeling that Gawain’s integration with Godric Gryffindor was coming back to haunt all three of them.

Gawain shimmered into place in front of him. “My apologies.”

“Esmeralda Ravenclaw was your wife.”

Gawain averted his gaze. “Godric’s wife, and it traditionally makes a difference, Harry.”

“When you told me that you’d merged your soul energy with Godric, you said that you did it to preserve his title because he was going to die without issue,” Harry said. “What happened, Gawain?”

“During that time, Revenant potential wasn’t known until death,” Gawain said. “And it was considered a gift—as we had no knowledge of genetics. Esme was already married to Godric when I asked him to Anchor me. He agreed after a thorough discussion with her. She was brilliant and beautiful, but I kept myself separate from them and their marriage as much as I could. His love for her was profound and consuming. One would consider them quite co-dependent in this day.”

Harry nodded. “I’ve had someone say the same thing about Hermione and me.” He cleared his throat. “How was she killed?”

“Godric’s brother, Tostig, murdered her.” Gawain turned and focused on the fire. “I’d not known rage like that since the day I buried my king.”

“Was it about the title, or did he want her?”

Gawain turned to look at him. “What?”

“It’s just…well, some people sometimes destroy what they want and can’t have,” Harry said. “And it couldn’t have been all that different a thousand years ago.”

“It wasn’t,” Gawain admitted. “Tostig killed her because of the title. We’d finally conceived. Esme was so happy. She claimed that anchoring had given them the magical boost they’d needed to conceive in ritual because all of the other methods had failed. Two months later, she was dead—beaten to death. It took mere hours to figure out who was responsible. Tostig thought he could defeat Godric in a fight. He believed that Godric had grown soft because he’d spent so much time teaching children.” Gawain frowned. “But what Godric lacked in skill with a sword, I more than made up for. Tostig didn’t survive five minutes against us.”

“Good,” Harry said roughly. “I’m sorry for it, though. I can’t imagine that kind of loss. You seemed so surprised by all of this. You didn’t know she was a Revenant?”

“I knew,” Gawain said. “But Godric asked her more than once to seek out an Anchor so we could…so they could be together again, and she said no. It seemed like she would never seek out an Anchor. I believed she’d sought the higher plane over a hundred years ago, and I was not in Europe when Minerva McGonagall anchored. I stupidly, and vainly, assumed that Esme would come to tell me if she ever anchored.”

“You’re hurt,” Harry said.

“Unspeakably,” Gawain admitted. “And that seems inappropriate. I’ve had no contact with Esme in over 900 years, and she clearly wants nothing to do with me.”

“Does she know that Godric integrated with you?” Harry questioned. “Because that might change things.”

“No, I didn’t seek her out after Godric died to tell her,” Gawain said. “This is a very old situation, Harry, and it can’t be fixed.”

“Do you want to reach out to see if we can get information on their status?” Harry questioned. “How are we going to go to school and have classes with her?”

Gawain made a face. “I’ll make every effort to keep my feelings regarding Esme to myself. Neither you nor Minerva McGonagall needs to be burdened with this.”

“She was in the courtroom when we met,” Harry said. “She was supposed to act as my guardian for the whole thing, but I lost track of her once you appeared.”

“She tried to go with you to St. Mungo’s, but Dumbledore interfered, claiming she had a conflict of interest due to her own Anchor status. I’m sorry. If I’d known she was there to represent you, I’d have never allowed the separation. You should certainly reach out to her as soon as possible, so she is certain of your good health and safety. It’s the proper thing to do and should’ve been done as soon as possible.”

Harry blushed. “I just assumed….” He trailed off. “I’m sure she was told I was okay once I was returned to Grimmauld Place, but I shouldn’t have assumed that she was properly informed and should’ve sent a letter.”

“Just so,” Gawain said gently. “A man of integrity never assumes that another has made amends on his behalf.”

“So, we should ask about Esme as well,” Harry said, and Gawain made a face at him. “Seriously.”

“I’ve never been hard to find, lad. If the woman had a single question for me, she’d have certainly asked it by now,” Gawain said. “I don’t want to be the cause of more pain for her.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “But Hermione’s going to ask. Then what?”

“In my day, it was perfectly reasonable to tell a woman to leave a man’s business alone.”

“Ha! You’ll have me on the couch before we even have a couch of our own to sleep on!”

Gawain laughed.

“Can I ask a personal question?”

“Of course,” Gawain said.

“Are you gay?”

“I’m…I believe the term these days is bisexual. If intimate memories with men would be psychologically difficult for you, I can work to sequester them before we settle further into our merger.”

“No, I’m fine with it,” Harry assured. “One of the boys from Durmstrang kissed me last year. I didn’t tell Hermione about it because he was quite…nervous and eventually upset to have done it. He apologized several times and then ran away, but I wasn’t upset.”

“It is your duty to protect the privacy and intimacies of others when they are shared with you. Did he at least ask if he could kiss you?”

“He said he wanted to,” Harry said. “And I was upset and kind of irritated that my name had come out of that stupid goblet. So, I just shrugged and said yes, then pulled him into a broom closet so we wouldn’t get any sort of accidental audience. I’m still a virgin, so…it was just kissing. I was curious. I didn’t hate it, but I enjoyed kissing witches more.”

“And that’s fine,” Gawain assured. “When you’re older, and if you’re still curious…I’ll share my intimate memories with you.” He paused. “At least the consensual ones.”

“What?” Harry questioned and swallowed hard.

“I was a soldier for a very long time across many lifetimes,” Gawain said. “Sometimes war strips the honor right out of men, Harry, and they do unspeakable things to each other. I’ve never taken someone without their consent, but it was done to more than one Anchor.” He paused. “And in my original life, it was done to me. I was made…I was a prisoner for several months. We’ll leave that there, okay? I’ve had many years to come to terms with that trauma, and I’m no longer haunted by it.”

“Are you haunted by anything?” Harry asked quietly.

“War is a special horror,” Gawain said. “And I couldn’t tell you how many people I’ve killed, and that’s always going to be nothing less than a nightmare. But I buried my king on a warm summer day in 538 AD, and I raged for years afterward. The loss still hurts me.”

“You loved him.”

Gawain nodded. “Of course.”

“Like a lover?”

Gawain paused and seemed to consider it. “He was my uncle through marriage, but we were close in age. Arthur married for political reasons but was faithful to his wife.”

“That wasn’t actually an answer.”

Gawain laughed. “Such a thing would’ve been heavily frowned upon in such times, Harry, but I must admit I wouldn’t have denied him anything—not even my physical love. He never sought it.”

“Why did you spend so much time unanchored?”

‘The last merger was difficult both personally and magically,” Gawain said. “I needed the rest and considered moving on. But my duty to Avalon keeps me here, and it brought me to you.”

“To me?”

“Arthur Pendragon fathered four children, Harry, before he married and none after marriage. And you are a direct descendant from one of those children through your mother.” Gawain smiled when Harry’s mouth dropped open. “It’s fine. There are others, and you have no magical obligations related to those circumstances currently.”

“What do you mean by currently?”

“Magic is alive, Harry Potter, and such a thing can not ever truly be predicted.”

* * * *

Hermione hadn’t really expected a mentor contract, nor had she expected to be given a vault, as a matter of course. To her amazement, the dverger was able to gain control of her trust fund from her grandmother. It had been moved into the magical world in a handful of hours, and her parents would be made to basically forget the account due to the magic of Gringotts. Her parents had visited the bank several times in the past, but she’d been assured they’d forget it ever existed at all eventually. It was part of a treaty that protected the Statute of Secrecy.

Tyr Warhide was fascinating, and the educational system amongst the dverger was the stuff of dreams. She’d been given several texts to read and a private communication system that connected directly to her mentor through a little mirror that was tied to her magical signature. She’d already asked for a similar connection to Harry for security purposes. It was relieving that Tyr took her concerns very seriously and agreed to add Harry to the system he’d created for the two of them.

“Is something wrong?”

Tyr hummed under his breath. “Just a little quirk of magical law that I considered a non-issue when we were working on a contract.” He sat back and set aside the piece of parchment he’d brought into the office aside. “You’re not entirely human.”

“What?” Hermione questioned and pressed her lips together to keep her mouth from dropping open.

“As a matter of course, I had your magic and blood tested during your appointment in the Healing Hall.”

Hermione nodded. The exam had been quite thorough, but she’d been warned in advance it would be required as it was part of the mentorship. Her physical and magical health was her mentor’s responsibility. “So…what do I have going on?”

“Well, twelve generations back, on your mother’s side, you have a dverger ancestor. Twenty-two generations back, again on your mother’s side, you have a veela ancestor. Neither has any sort of magical inheritance attached, but you will find certain magical disciplines easier to master.”

“How does this change my mentorship?” Hermione questioned.

Tyr slouched back in his chair and unbuttoned his suit jacket. “It doesn’t. But your dverger blood does compel me to come to your physical defense should it ever become necessary.”

“Oh.” She exhaled slowly. “What?”

“An act of violence against you would be considered an act of violence against the horde,” Tyr said plainly. “There are hundreds of treaties between the horde and various magical governments all over the world that make this so. The problem is that revealing your creature inheritance could lead to discrimination against you.” He paused. “Further discrimination.”

Hermione huffed. “Don’t call yourself a creature.”

Tyr grinned at her. “We are all—no matter the species—the creatures of Hekate, Hermione. Don’t let such a word put you off as it does others. Magical humans invest themselves in separating from Hekate and her rule, but it doesn’t matter if they turn their back on the goddess or not. Disrespect will be noted and punished as a matter of course.”

Hermione nodded. “We should get Harry tested.”

“Should we?” Tyr questioned with an amused grin. “Curious or concerned?”

“Oh, I know he won’t care about my ancestors,” Hermione said dismissively. “But I’m dead curious about his, and he knows little to nothing about his own heritage as is. I think he’d be amused by it and precious little amuses him lately. I think anchoring has made him kind of…depressed. I was going to ask the healers about it, but I got distracted by all the magic Omis was doing. She’s amazing.”

“Omis Stoneheart is the considered the brightest dwarrowdam of her generation,” Tyr said. “She has no equal in her field. Dverger from all over the world seeks her attention as a healer, but she is selective about who she allows into her personal domain as a healer.”

“Then why did she handle my care?” Hermione questioned.

“Because she’s the sister of Ragnok Windrider, and he asked her to take care of all three of our human guests. She’s spent a great deal of time with Lord Black. He’s not well, as I’m sure you know.”

Hermione scowled. “If I made it my life’s work to destroy Azkaban, would you be for or against it?”

“I’ll help you raze that whole bloody island, lass,” Tyr said wryly and grinned when she laughed. “As to Lord Gryffindor, I can ask him to submit to a healer’s exam but can’t demand it outside of an overt injury.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “He normally does what I say.”

“You may find that circumstance a thing of the past,” Tyr said. “And you’ll have to adjust accordingly if you wish to keep his friendship. The merger of a Revenant and an Anchor will cause a shift and personality. He’s still adjusting to his new circumstances. I wouldn’t want you to think that Sir Gawain would influence him in a negative fashion. In many ways, the boy you know is on the path to manhood due to the anchoring of an ancient Revenant.”

Hermione exhaled slowly and swallowed the desire to protest. Her mouth trembled, and she pressed her fingers to her lips as tears welled. “We made all these plans, and I don’t know….” She huffed a little and wiped the tears away quickly. “He said everything was going to be fine, and I believe him. I trust him.”

“He’s certainly never given you any reason to doubt him, as far as I can discern,” Tyr said. “Adjustments are required even when the plans are written ink and once thought permanent to you.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Well, fortunately for us both, I didn’t take you to raise,” Tyr said wryly and laughed when she huffed.

“Well, you got a kid on the way, so you better figure out how to be comforting to someone!” She pointed a finger at him as he continued to laugh. “Seriously!”

“Speaking of my husband, he’d like to meet you. You and Lord Gryffindor will be invited to dinner. Security will retrieve you at 7:00 pm. Do either of you have any food intolerances?”

“Not that we’re aware of,” Hermione said. “But Harry loathes cabbage and refuses to discuss why. I’m sure his wretched aunt is the reason.”

“Cabbage isn’t featured often in our meals, so he’s safe from it,” Tyr said and checked his watch. “You have an hour of reading time before you’re due to attend a live lecture on estate planning. Your mirror will remind you before it starts. Write down any questions the lecture might generate, and I’ll answer them as I have time. Then we’ll have an hour of discussion on Friday morning.”

“Thank you for your time,” Hermione said as she stood. “I’m going to go try to send Harry to the Healing Hall for a physical. He has had issues with malnutrition in the past, and Madam Pomfrey has done all she can, but she’s a mediwitch, and Dumbledore interferes when she tries to send Harry to a healer. He probably needs another evaluation due to the dark magic issue when he anchored.”

“If he explains that situation to Omis, she’ll contact the healer who did that work.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, of course.”

* * * *

“What?” Omis Stoneheart questioned tersely.

Harry glanced briefly at Healer Wright, who’d been sent for as soon as the name came out of his mouth. “I just didn’t expect you to allow him to come here.”

“Zale works for Gringotts and has since he left Hogwarts. He spent ten years earning his mastery in the healing arts at my side,” Master Stoneheart said. “I only teach the very best.”

“It was the honor of my life to be chosen,” Healer Wright said, and Harry was startled by the profound sincerity the man projected. “Omis, I’ve spoken at length with Poppy Pomfrey. She has an extensive medical review of Lord Gryffindor. Unfortunately, Dumbledore used his dubious guardianship to control the situation from the start. I also believe she’s suffering under some sort of manipulative magic and reported such to the ICW. Interfering in the duty of an oath-bound healer, mediwitch, or mediwizard is a grave offense.”

“Well, he’s done that to all the teachers at Hogwarts,” Harry said. “I tried to tell people in the past, but I was ignored. I don’t know why I’m not being ignored now. We did check for charms and magical influences that could impact other people’s behavior around me but found nothing.”

“There are options in alchemy that wouldn’t have been revealed without advanced detection spells,” Master Stoneheart murmured, and Healer Wright nodded his agreement. “Or it could’ve been the dark magic itself.”

“It was a soul fragment,” he said, and Master Stoneheart turned to look at him with a furious glare. “I removed it in ritual, Omis. I swear on my magic neither his magic nor his soul was damaged by the fragment or the healing I did to fix the problem. Sir Gawain was instrumental in rejecting the fragment and protecting his soul during the entire process.”

“It was Tom Riddle’s soul fragment,” Harry said. “Do you think the fragment was using my own magic to influence people around me?”

“Yes,” she said flatly. “But it’s not a circumstance we can investigate now. Horcrux magic is insidious and known to be an international crime against magic for a reason.” Master Stoneheart turned to Healer Wright. “Contact Madam Pomfrey and tell her I need a full copy of his medical records.”

“I’ll need a release form from him,” Healer Wright said. “And I’ll retrieve the copy personally to avoid any issues regarding the chain of custody of the documents.” He focused on Harry. “If you agree.”

“Yeah, of course. Hermione said I needed to be thoroughly investigated now that we have a chance to do it. I’m to ask for genetic tests as well. She told me she has some creature blood, so she’s curious about my own familial history.” He made a face. “Gawain tells me I shouldn’t find the word creature offensive, so I need to work on the manufactured bias that has been foisted on me by the kids I got to school with.”

“Hekate bestowed magic on her beloved creatures,” Zale said as he sat down at a table and pulled out a piece of parchment. “Many humans disdain the goddess and pretend their magic is their due rather than a gift from Hekate. No crime or disrespect truly goes unpunished in the magical world, Lord Gryffindor. Zirnitra sees what we do, and if we mistreat his wife’s gifts, there is a reckoning.”

Harry nodded. “I think…Gawain has met Zirnitra. Is that something I should be concerned about?”

Master Stoneheart huffed. “Be more concerned if the Black Dragon makes a habit of showing up in the lives of his Anchors.” She stalked off as Healer Wright started to work on his parchment.

Gawain seemed amused by the conversation rather than concerned, so that was a relief. Harry pulled out his own journal, a thing he’d rarely used in the past despite how much he liked it. It had been a birthday present from Hermione, and she’d spent a lot of time picking it out, which made it one of his favorite possessions. He pulled out the self-inking quill that was hidden away in the spine and started to make a list of tasks.

He’d filled a whole page with Gawain’s help, and Master Stoneheart returned just in time to witness the signing of the release form that Healer Wright had produced. Harry signed it and watched the two healers certify it magically before Healer Wright left.

“Can I see Sirius?”

Master Stoneheart focused on him. “Lord Black is in a deep healing sleep, and I’ve encased him in a magical stasis to protect him from intrusions. It was good that he came to me, Lord Gryffindor, as he was magically compromised and incredibly ill. He’d not have survived another year without intervention. His time in Azkaban was immensely damaging. He has many months of healing ahead of him, and I’ve informed the World Court that he is not competent to stand trial and won’t be until next summer at the earliest.”

Harry considered that and closed his journal. “Can I put out a bounty on someone? Is that allowed?”

She grinned at him. “Whose head do you intend to ask for?”

“Well, I kind of want all of him,” Harry said. “Alive. Because if we can capture and put Peter Pettigrew on trial, then there won’t be any need to put Sirius through a court process. He’s suffered enough, and I’m fed up with people not taking the proper amount of care with him. He’s my family, Master Stoneheart. As his heir, I have a duty to defend him when he’s vulnerable, right?”

She stared for a moment, a smile playing on her generous mouth. “We should commission you a sword.”

Harry laughed. “Well, I already have one, but Gawain says that no wizard can have too many bladed weapons.”

“And yes, you can put out a bounty on anyone you like. Depending on the purpose, it is perfectly legal.” She shrugged. “Let Master Warhide figure out the details. It’s his job, and he enjoys such things.”

* * * *

Harry dropped down beside Hermione, who was curled up in one corner of the couch watching something on her mirror. He listened for a few moments but got bored fast as the person on the mirror spoke about wills and estate planning. She had a little lap desk that the mirror was sitting on, and she had a different journal that she was using exclusively for her mentorship. It looked like she’d written several pages of notes, and there was a separate piece of parchment with a list of questions.

Gawain was charmed by her, which amused Harry. Hermione could be a lot when she was studying, and Harry had learned early on to give her a lot of room when she was focused on a task. He didn’t consider her militant focus all that charming, but he didn’t consider it a flaw or anything. Some of the kids at Hogwarts were really put off by her studious nature.

More than one Gryffindor had made it clear over the years that Hermione Granger had been badly sorted. Of course, it had only gotten said once in front of Harry because he understood the deep insult of it. He’d nipped that shite in the bud as quickly as possible by pointing out that Hermione was responsible for nearly sixty percent of the points their year earned in Gryffindor. After that, all of their peers kind of became crazy about protecting Hermione’s study time when she was in the common room.

The instructor on the mirror ended the lesson, and Hermione made a few more notes before she closed her book and focused on him.

“How did it go?”

“Oh, I’m the hot mess we always assumed I was,” Harry said easily. “The Glain Neidr actually did a lot of repair during the ritual, as a matter of course, and Healer Wright came here to discuss it. He and Master Stoneheart went over my medical records from Madam Pomfrey thoroughly, and they’ve already drafted a complaint that will get her tested for curses. I told them that the minister was probably already rampaging through the school because of what we told him, but they wanted to make sure that Madam Pomfrey got the care she needed, so that was good. I’m worried about what that rat bastard has done to her.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said and took a deep breath. “I feel like we should’ve done more, faster. Our plan….”

“We’re fifteen,” Harry said. “And drawing attention to ourselves was dangerous. It’s still dangerous, but I have a lot of power at my disposal now that I’m emancipated. I want to announce that you’re a protected member of my magical house.”

“Why?”

“To add another layer of protection,” Harry said. “Also, I want to put a bounty on Peter Pettigrew.”

“Ah,” Hermione said and stood. “Let me get my bag!”

He watched her dart off to the bedroom she was using in the suite and return with the messenger bag that she used for school. “We need to do our school shopping.”

“I’ll ask Master Warhide about it,” Hermione said as she sat and opened her bag. “I already wrote the document you’ll need to file to declare Pettigrew an enemy of your magical house. His actions in the cemetery leave no room for doubt regarding his status. Thus, as the Earl of Gryffindor, you can announce a reward for his live capture. If he’s accidentally killed by a bounty hunter, that won’t be your fault.”

“I definitely want him alive so he can stand trial.”

“So, we include a significant bonus for good health,” Hermione said. “I already considered it because we definitely need to see that monster on trial for what he did to your family and for what he did to you and Cedric.” She paused. “Have you heard anything about him?”

“No, I’m not even sure if Cedric’s parents agreed to the ritual healing.”

“Surely they did,” Hermione said pensively. “I know his father is a bit of a twat, but…Cedric is their only child.” She huffed. “What if they said no?”

“We’ll petition the world court for a solution,” Harry said with a shrug. “Cedric is an adult, and if his parents don’t seek his best interests, then we’ll do what we can fix it. I’m not above kidnapping, either. Cedric shouldn’t be hurt the way he is, and if I have to go at Amos Diggory head-on, then I will.”

“Anonymous is best, but I agree,” Hermione said grimly. “We’ll definitely make Amos Diggory regret all of his life choices if he turns down the Glain Neidr.”

“That’s my girl,” Harry said in amusement.

Hermione turned to face him then, bottom lip clenched in her teeth. “Am I really?”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve always thought so—not in any sort of ownership way. Just from the very start, I thought, there’s my person.”

Hermione laughed. “Yeah, I thought so, too.” She slouched beside him until her shoulder was pressed against his. “Do you feel very different?”

“I feel….” Harry took a deep breath. “Full.”

“Full?”

“I know that sounds weird, and I don’t mean it in a food-related way. Maybe it’s because the horcrux is gone or because of Gawain’s magic. There’s just this fullness in my body that I’ve never had before. It’s not uncomfortable or anything. Last night I had a dream…it was amazing.”

“What was it about?”

“King Arthur knighted me,” Harry said. “Gawain was full to the brim with grateful love and honor. Taking a knee for the king was everything he’d always wanted. I never knew such a pure and enduring love could exist, Hermione. I wish I could explain it better. He grieved the loss of Arthur for hundreds of years, and even now, the pain sort of lingers in him.” He paused. “In me.”

“It’s lovely to know that such love is possible,” Hermione said. “How did your genetic tests go.”

“Ah, well, that was startling,” Harry said wryly.

“What do you mean?”

“So, did you know that Arthur Pendragon wasn’t exactly all human?”

“What….” Hermione turned and stared at him. “Are you related to Arthur bloody Pendragon?”

Harry grinned. “Gawain would you like to you take great care with the speaking of his beloved king’s name.” She huffed a little. “But, yes, he had four children before his marriage. There are dozens of people in Britain who are distantly related to him as a result but, oddly, I’m the only magical descendant currently through my mother.”

“So what was he, if not entirely human?”

“His mother was dragonkin.”

“Dragonkin,” Hermione repeated. “They’re extinct.”

“Yeah, but several bloodlines survived, and I’m in one of them. It doesn’t mean much magically, but it’s cool. I could probably achieve the animagus transformation more easily, apparently. But I don’t have the dragon-shift ability naturally. Master Stoneheart said that some with dragonkin blood, in the past, did master a dragon form. I’ve also got a veela ancestor—really distant but fun to know.” Harry focused on her. “So what was yours?”

“Veela and dverger,” Hermione said. “Both are so distant they wouldn’t show up outside of a specific test. But even a drop of dverger blood is too much for some humans.”

Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I’m surprised some of those people can walk and breathe at the same time without being reminded. We certainly can’t take them seriously. I wonder who’ll end up in charge of Hogwarts.”

“Oh.” Hermione huffed.

“What?”

“I just realized I’ve been thinking he’d get away with all of this and still be headmaster,” Hermione confessed. “What if we get someone worse?”

“Gawain thinks I should start declaring my willingness to engage in blood feuds, and then…and I quote…dare a motherfucker.” He grinned when she burst out laughing. “But he did tell me I shouldn’t repeat that to you since it’s profane, and your language is coarse enough without his bad influence.”

“We’re having dinner with Master Warhide and Master Fireborn this evening,” Hermione said. “We’ll get a security escort.”

Harry nodded. “Cool. I don’t think I have anything decent to wear.”

“Oh,” Hermione said with a huff. “We need to fix your wardrobe in a serious way, Harry. You’re the bloody Earl of Gryffindor.” She hopped up. “I’m going to go ask a guard about a tailor.”

Harry watched her dart off. “I regret that so much.”

Gawain laughed in the back of his mind.

* * * *

Harry’s letter to Minerva McGonagall was returned unopened. It was so startling to take the letter from Hedwig that it kind of hurt. He was a Gryffindor to his core, and his head of house was precious to him. He doubted there was a single witch or wizard sorted into Gryffindor who felt different. Well, except for Pettigrew, and that bastard had clearly had a terrible sorting. The appointment with the tailor had taken just thirty minutes, and he’d been given five outfits to wear while a wardrobe was created for him. They’d even arranged for school uniforms, and Hermione had picked out a bunch of things from the catalog.

“What does….” Harry focused on Hermione. “Why would Hedwig fail to deliver the letter?”

“She’s somewhere unplottable?” Hermione suggested and bit down on her lip. “I’m worried.”

They had two hours until dinner, Harry noted after a cursory glance at his watch. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Where are you going?” She demanded, gaze narrowing.

“I’m going to go ask the Minister for Magic what he did with Minerva McGonagall, and if she’s come to any harm—we’re going to take it out of his hide,” Harry said tersely, and Gawain stirred visibly around him.

“What…. Why?” Hermione questioned.

“Gawain integrated with Godric Gryffindor, Hermione. Esmeralda Ravenclaw was…their wife,” Harry said shortly. “And what happens to Minerva McGonagall is happening to her.” He tossed the letter on his desk and took a deep breath as he rubbed his chest. Gawain was like a storm inside of him. “I can’t…I have to go now.”

“Yes, go,” Hermione agreed.

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that!” Hermione exclaimed and pointed toward the outgoing floo connection in the suite.

Harry snagged the sack of floo powder from the mantle, threw a handful in the fire, stepped in, and shouted, “Ministry of Magic!”

He landed in the atrium floo with a burst of magic and exited. Hermione appeared a near instant later, much to his ire. He realized he had no right to control her, but he’d thought he’d been pretty clear about going alone.

She took his hand as he walked. “Don’t give me that attitude, Harry James.”

“I didn’t give you any sort of attitude,” Harry muttered as he punched the button for the lift and glared at a wizard who was staring at him. “What?”

“You’re glowing, lad,” the man said mildly. “Is Sir Gawain unmooring?”

“No, he’s furious,” Harry said shortly, and the doors opened. He stepped inside and tugged Hermione with him. “Are you coming or what?”

The man stared for a moment and shook his head. “I’ll just take the next one, yeah?”

Hermione pushed the button for the administration’s floor, and the doors closed between them and the stranger. “You just copped a whole attitude with the Head Auror, Harry.”

“That was Kingsley Shacklebolt?” Harry questioned. “I was supposed to meet him after the inquiry, but that never happened. Dumbledore said he was going to smooth things over with the DMLE.”

“That sounds like Shacklebolt is on the take,” Hermione muttered. “We should tell on him, too.”

“Certainly,” Harry said. “We’re going to go down in magical history as the most prolific tattletales ever.”

“I’m okay with that,” Hermione said and squared her shoulders as soon as the doors opened. “Let’s go make some people explain themselves.”

“Deal,” Harry said in amusement as they left the lift.

Three aurors were in the hall lingering at a pair of double doors that had Office of the Minister for Magic blazed across the top. It was pretentious as fuck, but Harry wasn’t in the mood to be amused by it.

One of the men stepped forward as they approached.

“Don’t be the one I make an example of,” Harry said evenly, and the auror blinked in surprise as Gawain’s energy spread out around them both.

“Merlin’s pants,” the second one muttered and backed away.

“Look….” The auror held up his hands. “Just don’t make a mistake here, kid.”

“That’s Lord Gryffindor to you,” Hermione said hotly and jabbed one slim finger at him.

The wizard jerked like she might have cast a spell at him and stumbled out of the way. The last of them seemed to hesitate before he just took a deep breath and opened the doors.

“It’s a good thing I’m not a Death Eater!” Harry snapped as they stalked past the three aurors. “All three of you need to be fired!”

“They will be.”

Harry focused on the sound of the voice and found a man leaning casually on the single desk in the reception area. He crossed his arms and stared at the pair of them. Gawain didn’t seem all that concerned by the sight of him, which was a relief because Harry had rarely seen a more dangerous-looking wizard in his life. Hermione shifted closer and exhaled slowly as if she was preparing for a fight.

Harry laced his fingers with Hermione’s to further his hold on her as he stared at the man. “I want to speak with Minister McGregor.”

“You don’t have an appointment,” the man said in amusement.

“I’ve decided that I don’t need one,” Harry returned. “Are we going through you or what?”

The man quirked an eyebrow and laughed. “Fortunately for us both, we won’t have to test that scenario today. The minister was made aware of your arrival the near-instant you came through the floo in the atrium.”

The door behind him opened, and Lord McGregor appeared. “If you’re finished threatening my bodyguard, Lord Gryffindor, you can come in.”

Harry shrugged. “Master Stoneheart says I need to work on my threats.”

“No, you don’t,” the man said roughly. “My son told me you were a moderate magical threat, Lord Gryffindor. I need to have a long talk with that boy about his habit of understating the facts.”

“I’ve met your son?” Harry questioned. “Does he go to Hogwarts?”

“He’s a member of the Glain Neidr,” the man said. “My name is Roman Banner.” He checked his watch and focused on McGregor. “Justice Bertrand should be arriving within the hour. I’ve arranged security for the hotel, but I’d like to verify everything is in place.”

“Do it,” McGregor said. “Set the wards behind you and contact Amelia about those idiots in the hallway.”

“Include Shacklebolt in the report,” Hermione said dryly. “He didn’t even try to stop us from getting on the lift.”

McGregor huffed a little and motioned them forward impatiently. “Come in here so Roman can set the wards.”

Harry eyed Roman Banner as they passed him and wondered what else his son had told him. He knew there were conclave rules in place and that the members of the Glain Neidr lived by a very explicit code, so he wasn’t worried about an invasion of privacy.

“Oh.” Hermione winced as she drew a mirror out of her bracelet. “I don’t think we should’ve left the bank without telling someone, Harry.”

“I’m a grown man,” Harry muttered, and she huffed at him. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I heard you,” Tyr Warhide said from the mirror, and Hermione turned it toward Harry so they could share the image. “And I actually agree. I wouldn’t have been notified if you hadn’t made off with my apprentice.”

“Technically, she’s the ward of my magical house,” Harry said.

Tyr raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to split hairs with me, Lord Gryffindor?”

“No, Master Warhide, that’d be ridiculous since you have five masteries in law,” Harry said. “We’re going to interrogate the temporary Minister for Magic, then we’ll be back for dinner.” He paused. “Should we pick up anything while we’re out?”

“Get Razel some chocolate swirl strawberry ice cream,” Tyr ordered. “And tell the minister that I expect you to be returned to the bank in a timely fashion, or I’ll come over there myself.”

The mirror went dark, and Hermione stored it. McGregor was staring at them, clearly shocked.

“Why do you have a very expensive and rare communication mirror connected directly to Ragnok Windrider’s son-in-law?” McGregor asked as his gaze drifted between the two of them.

“He’s our account manager,” Harry said. “And Hermione’s mentor.”

McGregor blinked in surprise. “Less than fifty humans have been mentored within the horde in the last three hundred years.”

Hermione squinted at him. “Are you implying I don’t deserve his attention, Lord McGregor?”

He laughed. “No, not at all. You’re well-known already for your intelligence and potential. When it’s announced, plenty of people will be furious to have missed the opportunity to have you as their apprentice. I admit to being one of them. If I’d known you were interested in magical law, I’d have already started a correspondence with you and your parents.”

McGregor sat down at his desk and motioned them to sit. The chairs were too far apart, so Harry pulled one over so he could keep her hand, and they sat down.

“I tried to send Professor McGonagall a letter, and it was returned to me,” Harry said plainly. “Where is she? Is Dumbledore in custody?”

McGregor stared for a moment, then dropped a stack of letters in front of him. “Care to know what these are?”

“Is it relevant to my questions?” Harry asked, and Hermione huffed her agreement.

McGregor grinned. “I don’t think anyone truly knows what kind of loyalty Minerva inspires amongst those sorted in Gryffindor. These are letters for her—from current and past Gryffindors wanting to know where she is as it’s gotten out that she was removed from Hogwarts by healers. Yours would be here, too, if your owl hadn’t adamantly refused to give it to me.”

“Hedwig doesn’t…tolerate shenanigans,” Harry admitted. “She brought the letter back to me.”

Hermione immediately offered the folded letter that Harry had tossed aside, and McGregor took it to add to the pile. “Where is she? St. Mungo’s? Will we be allowed to see her?”

“She’s here and is currently sequestered in the Department of Mysteries. The Glain Neidr is handling her care at my request—they are currently researching.”

“Researching what?” Hermione questioned.

“Dumbledore was controlling her through the use of a magical device built on alchemy,” McGregor said roughly. “And he’s in Rome.”

“Rome?”

“He was put on trial in an emergency session of the World Court of Magic and convicted for crimes against magic,” McGregor said frankly. “The device was put on Minerva while she was merging with the Revenant that saved her life in 1952. Thus, he is guilty of holding a Revenant and Anchor in magical servitude for forty-three years.”

“Magical servitude?” Hermione questioned in horror. “What does that mean?”

Harry cleared his throat and blinked back tears. Gawain’s grief and shock was suffocating. He pressed against his chest with his free hand, and Hermione’s fingers chilled against his. “I want to murder him.”

“Me, too,” McGregor said frankly, and Harry focused on him. “Magical scholars from all the world are gathering to help her, Lord Gryffindor. She’ll receive the best possible care.”

“What can we do to help?” Hermione questioned.

“I….” McGregor cleared his throat. “As I doubt you’re the last Gryffindor I’ll have trying to tear down this place to get to her, I was going to make an announcement in an hour explaining her condition and letting everyone know that she’s in good hands. The rest of the staff at Hogwarts did warn us. They’re all laboring under very heavy-handed loyalty charms, and several of them passed out trying to warn us against taking Minerva. They didn’t know Dumbledore was already in custody. We have a team of curse breakers at the school for them.” He stared pointedly at Harry. “But I think if the Earl of Gryffindor told his peers that Minerva is in safe hands, it would be better believed.”

“If you want me to announce such a thing, then I want to see her first,” Harry said plainly. “I’m not going to be anyone’s mouthpiece, Lord McGregor.”

* * * *

“She’s alive?” Hermione questioned in a near whisper.

It was a valid question because their head of house looked as pale as a corpse. Harry swallowed hard as he focused on Armand Deering for the answer to Hermione’s question.

“She’s in stasis,” Armand said. “Her Revenant appears to be near starved for soul energy and magic.”

Gawain shimmered right into place beside Harry. “What?”

Deering raised an eyebrow. “You can project already?”

“He’s a fucking archmagus. Of course, I can already project,” Gawain snapped. “What’s wrong with Esme?”

Armand cleared his throat. “At this point, she’s too weak to unmoor, Sir Gawain. We don’t know if her spirit is strong enough to continue to exist as she’s meant to.”

“How did Dumbledore accomplish such a thing?” Harry questioned as Gawain focused on Minerva’s still form, then disappeared with a soft sound of dismay.

“We think it was an accident,” Deering admitted. “As there are no documented methods to do such a thing in any magical society on Earth. I’ve put a seal of secrecy on every single person who’s come near the device.”

“Can we see it?” Harry questioned.

Deering raised an eyebrow. “Hiro Ito, the oldest wizard alive, has been here, and it wasn’t familiar to him.”

“One can assume that Sir Gawain and Hiro Ito have vastly different life experiences,” Hermione pointed out tartly. “Let’s leave the ancient prick measuring contests for another day and show us the damned device.”

Armand grinned at her. “I look forward to introducing you to my wife. She’s going to be disappointed, of course, as it’s already getting out that you apprenticed to Master Warhide. Patrice was hoping you’d be interested in the healing arts or charms—she has masteries in both.” He motioned toward a small iron box on a table not far from them. “We’re keeping it in a portable vault to prevent interference while we research.”

Armand opened the vault, and it unfolded like a letter revealing a slim silver bracelet. Gawain swelled inside of him with shock and fury.

“I….” Harry cleared his throat as information flooded into his brain from Gawain. “Jesus Christ.”

“Harry?” Hermione questioned.

“It’s a chastity bracelet,” Harry said shortly.

“That makes no sense,” McGregor interjected. “Minerva and I have been…together for several decades.”

“It’s clearly been modified for another purpose,” Harry said absently. “But Gawain is very familiar with the device as several Knights of the Round Table wore them to protect themselves and their magic. He wishes that he’d taken one upon being knighted as it prevents sexual assault for males as well.”

“And that’s how he got her to put it on,” McGregor said. “He promised her safety from her worst nightmare.”

“A chastity device of this nature would be fueled by her own magic.” Armand Deering grimaced, clearly furious.

“It’s not like mine?” Hermione questioned.

Both men focused on her, and Harry shifted closer, then squeezed her fingers gently in support.

“What are you wearing, lass?” Armand demanded. “And who gave it to you?”

“I commissioned protection for her in our third year through the bank when she decided she wanted a magical marriage,” Harry said shortly when Hermione hesitated. “She’s wearing a war ward designed and placed by Master Rhys Sharprock and his son, Master Cyrus Gildhard. It was keyed specifically to her magic, and only she can remove it. It simply ensures her explicit, unmanipulated consent.” He paused. “And will rip any offender limb from limb.”

Armand raised an eyebrow. “Such a commission would be extremely expensive, Lord Gryffindor.”

“She’s priceless,” Harry said evenly, and he focused on Minerva McGonagall. “We could ask Master Stoneheart if she will consult. Would that help?”

“It would be an immense boon to our endeavor,” Armand Deering admitted. “We have no hope of getting a coven, which we may need, into place on short notice without an international effort. Omis Stoneheart already has a coven.”

“Why haven’t you already asked the horde?” Harry questioned with a frown.

“There is no current wizarding patron for the horde,” McGregor said. “We have no method in place to facilitate magical cooperation on the scale you’re suggesting. But if you can get her in this room, I’d be in your debt.”

“I have a suggestion,” Hermione said and flushed when they all focused on her. “Let’s go back to the bank and ask Master Stoneheart. If she agrees, Harry will make a statement in front of the bank announcing the professor’s status in non-explicit terms to put people at ease, and he’ll highlight that the dverger has agreed to help the British Ministry of Magic in the healing process. The chieftain will have to agree, of course, but it’s good optics for both organizations.”

McGregor nodded and eyes dark as he stared at Hermione. “I see.”

Harry shifted closer and barely refrained from tucking her behind him. “We hope you’ll keep your epiphanies to yourself, Lord McGregor.”

McGregor stared for a long moment, then nodded. “Of course, Lord Gryffindor. The plan is sound, Miss Granger. I hope Master Stoneheart agrees.”

* * * *

Omis Stoneheart had not only agreed, she’d immediately packed a bag and left the bank with two other dwarrowdams. Harry had been kind of surprised by the abruptness of it but also relieved. He found himself in a meeting with the chieftain and the minister, going over what sort of statement would be made. It was kind of off-putting as they were arguing over language, and Gawain was frustrated with the whole thing.

“I said I wasn’t going to be a mouthpiece,” Harry said, and they both turned to stare at him. Beside him, Tyr Warhide hummed under his breath. “And we have forty-five minutes before dinner. I don’t think sending the ice cream in advance of our arrival is going to be enough if we’re very late.”

“No, he’s been unreasonable for the last week or so,” Tyr said roughly. “Lord Gryffindor is young, and the more formal language the statement has, the less likely people will believe it came from him personally. Also, he needs to memorize the statement. He can’t be seen reading it, as it would look entirely manufactured.”

Minister McGregor made a face and turned to Ragnok. “It must be awful to put up with that kind of logic on a regular basis.”

“I used to think my son married well,” Ragnok said wryly.

The door to the conference room opened, and Hermione entered. She’d changed her clothes and was wearing a nice summer dress that made Harry kind of want to go on a picnic. She sat down at the table and opened the red planning journal.

“Okay.”

Harry focused on her. “What?”

“I’ve been reviewing the whole patron business, and it’s a big giant conspiracy, Harry.”

“What?”

“The last wizarding patron of the horde was certainly assassinated,” Hermione said and flicked through the pages of her journal. “Incidentally, he was a Potter, and the one before him was a Longbottom. There doesn’t appear to be any familial obligation attached to the role. It requires, however, a profound magical commitment since the patron has to swear on their magic to be a neutral arbiter between humans and the dverger.”

“Sounds about right,” Harry agreed. “Why was he assassinated?”

“Well, the story went that he got caught with another man’s wife and the resulting duel was the cause of his death,” Hermione said. “But that’s nonsense, and we both know it. Also, he was married to a man and had birthed both of their children. At any rate, the so-called investigation was haphazard at best because Amelia Bones couldn’t find any sort of record.”

“It’s been hundreds of years.”

“Madam Bones says there are case files for the DLME that go all the way back to the bloody founding of Hogwarts,” Hermione retorted and rolled her eyes when he laughed. “Regardless, the whole thing reeks of conspiracy. So, I started looking at treaties and such that were to be negotiated and signed in the years after his death and found two different ones that required a patron. Those two treaties are still in limbo, Harry, and that’s ridiculous.” She flicked her quill. “And I’m sure you won’t be at all surprised that both of those treaties involve the expansion of basic bloody rights for non-human magical creatures.”

Harry made a face because he absolutely did not want to be the patron of the horde. He had plans that didn’t involve any sort of political nightmare.

“Don’t make that face at me, Harry. This is just the kind of thing I’ve been talking about for years. This whole society is corrupt, and if you expect me to live in it, then things are going to have to change, or I’ll riot all by myself and cause an International Brouhaha. Which, honestly? I’m tempted to do anyway!”

“How can you be certain that the last patron was actually murdered?” Tyr asked curiously.

“He was married,” Hermione said.

“Lass, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but being married doesn’t automatically prevent adultery,” Tyr said.

“It does in the house of Potter,” Harry said. “I could look it up in my grimoire, but the first time we read it…we realized that every single wizard in my house, going back over a thousand years, had sworn their fidelity on their magic upon marriage. For some, it is no sort of sacrifice, and for others, it is obviously atonement of some kind they feel compelled to do based on the resentment documented in the grimoire.”

“Atonement for what?” Lord McGregor asked curiously.

Harry exhaled slowly. “Insanity and family annihilation because fidelity isn’t the only vow the men in my family make the day they marry. My own father vowed to give his life to protect his wife and children.” He cleared his throat and focused on Hermione after enduring the shocked horror from everyone at the table. “So, results?”

“I’m still working on the patron issue because, honestly, the whole system is wretched, and I think I want to work on a class action lawsuit against the ICW. A wizarding patron would make that easier, but the selection process for that can take a decade.”

“It takes a decade when we want to be difficult about it,” Tyr said and shrugged when she huffed. “Also, a class action lawsuit of that kind would take a team of fifty or more solicitors.”

Her gaze narrowed. “We should start vetting our team then.” He grinned at her, and she huffed, then focused on Harry. “Now, today, your goal is righteous indignation and character assassination.” She ignored the little shocked noises that the others made. “You’re going to go out there and make the entire magical world loathe Albus Dumbledore. The outright destruction of his persona is just as important as our whole plan to get rid of Tom Riddle.”

“Why?”

“Because right now he’s in jail serving a so-called life sentence,” Hermione said plainly. “But wizarding society is full of morons, Harry. As soon it becomes known, there will be entire swathes of people who will lobby for his release. They might even try to rescue him from his much-deserved circumstances.” She pulled out a piece of parchment. “I made a list of subjects for you to touch on. Plus, we’ll want to give the public a focus, and I figured research would be the most beneficial for the Glain Neidr. I asked Master Deering for a list of specific needs they might have and included it.”

“Did you leave the bank while I’ve been a hostage in here?” Harry questioned.

“No, I used Hedwig,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Now, go change your clothes so we can get this over with. I’ve picked out a casual, but I’ve got a lot of money look, and that evil little bug has already shown up representing the Daily Prophet.”

“Are you still mad about that?” Harry questioned. “Because we agreed that you’d probably get tried as an adult if you actually kept her a hostage for the whole summer in a jar.”

“Who are you talking about?” Lord McGregor questioned.

And Hermione smiled in genuine delight. “Rite Skeeter is an illegal animagus, and she uses her little beetle form to spy on people and write wretched lies in the Prophet. But can you wait to arrest her? She’s really handy right now on the propaganda front since I’m blackmailing her.”

“Are you supposed to admit to crimes in front of multiple witnesses?” Harry questioned. “It seems like a bad idea.”

“Because the magical world is utterly corrupt, Harry, it’s not illegal to blackmail someone unless money is involved,” Hermione said. “And the only thing I’m getting out of this is personal gratification.”

“I think…sometimes there is information you do not need,” Harry said and shrugged when she glared at him.

“The worst part is that she’s right, and I’m willing to sit on the whole animagus issue until Rita is no longer useful,” Lord McGregor said dryly and shared a look with the chieftain. “He’s not going to listen to us.”

“I can stay in the bank,” Harry said, and they both scowled at him. “We’ve been managing my public image just fine this whole time, you know. Have a little faith. If I mess up, I’m often considered charming and sweet rather than stupid or malicious.”

“And that’s the worst part for me,” Tyr said and stood. “Because he’s right, too. He could be this country’s golden boy for the next 300 years.”

* * * *

“Good afternoon,” Harry said and shifted the single piece of parchment he’d left the bank with around in front of him on the podium. “Thank you for taking the time to come here today.”

There was a large crowd, and not all of them were reporters. He figured his Anchor status now had equal play with his personal history, and he wondered what the people of Britain truly expected him of going forward.

“We have a very difficult topic to discuss with you today. It will be shocking, disgusting, and in some cases, utterly heartbreaking. You might be asking yourself why I’m speaking when both the Minister for Magic and the Chieftain of the Dverger Horde are standing on this platform.  There is currently no wizarding patron for the horde, and thus it has been difficult for several hundred years to maintain any sort of relationship with the dverger.

“Because my godfather retreated to the bank for assistance regarding his illegal incarceration and Minister Fudge’s attempted murder of him, I’m currently staying with the dverger. This afternoon, I came to know of a grave situation. Many of you have probably heard rumors already about the circumstances at Hogwarts. But, if you have not—I’ll give you a brief explanation.

“It was reported to Lord McGregor, the current Minister for Magic of Great Britain, that Albus Dumbledore was guilty of using magic to manipulate and control the entire staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The ramifications of this crime are immense as the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts is the Anchor for a beloved and revered Revenant in Great Britain.” He paused. “It has been her honor to Anchor Lady Esmeralda Ravenclaw since 1952. This information is a matter of public record but has largely been unacknowledged due to the criminal behavior of a former minister.”

He watched shock drift over the crowd. “I speak of this now because the age of her Revenant is very important in the healing process Minerva McGonagall is currently entrenched in. It is believed, but not currently confirmed, that this relationship marked the first time that Esmeralda Ravenclaw anchored since her murder over a thousand years ago.” He held up a hand when several people started talking. “I’m not taking questions.”

Harry waited until the crowd grew quiet and ignored the glares he received. He was used to adults getting irritated with him when they didn’t get what they wanted from him. “In order to control Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore placed a restrictive, alchemy-based behavioral modification device on her that resulted in her magical servitude for the last forty-three years. She insisted on the removal of the device.

“Unfortunately, the removal nearly killed her and the Revenant spirit she anchors. This circumstance is unprecedented, and the Glain Neidr is working hard to research and find a way to save both of their lives. At the end of my statement, I will provide a list of research needs. To further the endeavor being undertaken by the ministry, I offered to act as a go-between them and the horde at Sir Gawain’s suggestion. Thus, Master Omis Stoneheart, a world-renowned healer, and her coven have joined the effort to save the lives of two extraordinary women whom this world will be poorer without.

“Albus Dumbledore was tried for crimes against magic in the World Court of Magic in an emergency session and was convicted. He has been imprisoned in an undisclosed location. I won’t pretend to know how you feel about his betrayal, but please know this—due to his heinous, unforgivable crimes, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is now and forever shall he be the enemy of the Earl of Gryffindor. To actively support him is to set yourself against me. Any attempt to aid him illegally or change his circumstances will result in a permanent state of feud between your family and mine.”

Shock teetered through the crowd.

“Why?” One man demanded in shock, his accent was American, which greatly surprised Harry, but maybe it shouldn’t have, considering the circumstances.

Gawain swelled inside him, and Revenant energy drifted on his skin. “Because Esmeralda Ravenclaw is the wife of Godric Gryffindor. We stand here, the Earl of Gryffindor, due to his grace and integration with Sir Gawain, the Son of Lot, at the time of his death. Any crime committed against Esmeralda Ravenclaw and whoever anchors her going forward is a crime against me, and I will give offenders no quarter.”

He cleared his throat and focused on the list Hermione had created. “The Glain Neidr is currently seeking esoteric resources on behavioral modification devices based on alchemy, Revenant energy, Revenant magical reserves, core fractures, and ritual shoring. They, of course, have unfettered access to any books written in English after 1900 due to the ministry and Hogwarts itself. I beg of you, do not waste their time with this.

“The Minister for Magic, Lord Jonah McGregor, would like to invite anyone with the right knowledge and experience to come to Britain at our expense. You can contact his office with your qualifications. If you are anchoring a Revenant who is at least a thousand years old, we would be grateful if you would volunteer for non-invasive and careful tests regarding your connection with your Revenant. I’ve gone through this examination. It took ten minutes, and they merely gathered information on how Sir Gawain and I were intrinsically managing our merged magic. I got a piece of candy for not fidgeting. Your mileage on that subject may vary.” He smiled briefly when several people laughed.

“The days ahead will be difficult ones. The betrayal we are facing here in Britain is still being investigated, and we can’t be certain how many people have suffered at the hands of Albus Dumbledore. But we are stronger already for it as we’ve rooted out a deep source of weakness and neutralized it. For the citizens of Britain, St. Mungo’s has called in reserve healers and medi-staff to be on hand to perform scans and tests to put your minds at ease if you’re worried about having been unduly influenced.

“If you have, in the past, had any significant contact with Albus Dumbledore, I encourage you to seek the attention of a healer. He has proven that he cannot be trusted with your faith or your well-being.”

“Don’t you believe in redemption, Lord Gryffindor? That’s not very light of you,” Rita shouted.

Harry focused on her with a frown, and the crowd grew still around them. “Redemption is for the deserving, and Albus Dumbledore deserves nothing from me. The day he dies, I will petition the Black Dragon to see his very soul sanctioned as I find his continued existence to be an act of treachery.”

He turned on his heel and walked back into the bank in the silence that followed.

The End

 

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